It always seems to me that I am doing more work than I should do.
It is not that I object to work, mind you; I like work; it fascinates me.
I can sit and look at it for hours. I love to keep it by me; the idea of getting
rid of it nearly breaks my heart.
You cannot give me enough work; to accumulate work has almost become a passion with me;
my study is so full of it now that there is hardly an inch of room any more.
I shall have to throw out a new wing soon.
And I am careful of my work, too. Why, some of the work that I have by
me now has been in my possession for years and years, and there isn't a
finger-mark on it. I take a great pride in my work; I take it down now and then
and dust it. No man keeps his work in a better state of preservation than I do.
But, though I crave for work, I still like to be fair. I do not ask for more
than my proper share.
But I get it without asking for it - at least, so it appears to me - and this worries me.
Jerome K. Jerome - Three Men In A Boat